Sensory Overload
by DreamBrother
Summary: Companion piece to Sensory Deprivation Charlie's POV. Can be read as a standalone but would be good to read SD first. No longer a oneshot, it's morphing into a monster.
1. Overload

**Title:**Sensory Overload

**Author: **DreamBrother

**Summary: **Acompanion piece to Sensory Deprivation; Charlie's POV. Can be read as a stand alone.

**Disclaimer: **I'm fine with not owning them. Honestly.

**Author's Note: **Had to get this out of my head first. To all those who requested a happier follow up to SD (optimistic bunch that you are), be patient, I'll get to it, just trying to figure out which way to write it; a narrative like the first chapter or a conversation-type thingie. Let me know which one you'd prefer if you review. Also, should I thank Audioslave for the song 'Like A Stone' which accompanied me as I wrote this? Still not sure of the ending, as with SD, if you're an optimist, Don survives. If you're all for Titanic endings, may he RIP.

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**Sensory Overload**

The day was destined to be filled with ironies, it seemed. For once, it was the brother who was a mathematician who was getting shot at, who was the target, rather than the brother who was an FBI agent. But real kicker was the fact that the brother who was the intended target had his senses go into overload while the brother who took a bullet for him slowly experienced all his senses leaving him. Charlie would have given anything to reverse their positions. But his only consolation lay in the fact that it was now up to him to make sure that his brother made it to the hospital, that Don didn't cease to breathe before the people in white coats and scrubs could return the favour Don granted to many strangers and families; saving the lives of their loved ones.

Charlie had barely caught a glimpse of the man who aimed the gun at him on the street, a person he didn't even recognize. A glimpse was all he saw, before he saw the suit clad form of his brother glide in front of him, blocking his line of vision, his brother knowing instinctively that while he couldn't draw him gun in time to shoot the gunman before he fired his own weapon, he could make sure the bullet came nowhere near Charlie. The force of the impact of the bullet making its way into his brother's body knocked him into Charlie's waiting arms before Charlie even heard the gunshot, his body reacting instinctively in its own way to catch his brother as he fell, as his normally sharp mind registered sluggishly that the reason for the fall was that Don had been shot. From that moment, Charlie's attention became limited to his brother, and his brother alone, barely noticing Megan, David and Colby pulling their own weapons to bring down the gunman before he could fire a second shot, his brother's shooter dead before he hit the ground. He didn't notice the screams emanating from the pedestrians around them, not the sounds of the gunshots, didn't notice the quick response of his brother's team, as Megan and David knelt next to the prone form of his brother, Megan pressing a hand down on the wound in his brother's chest as David whispered that the best course of action would be for them to rush Don to the hospital themselves, that Don didn't look like he had the time to wait for an ambulance to arrive and make the return trip back to the nearest hospital. All that Charlie could concentrate on was the weight of his brother's body on his lap, the sounds of Don's harsh breathing despite the fact he was shot only a few seconds ago, the sight of crimson quickly overtaking as the dominant colour on his brother's previously white dress shirt. Worst was the look in his brother's eyes, the mixture of confusion, pain and worry. Worry, Charlie was certain, for him. His brother was always weird like that, worrying about Charlie before worrying about the fact that he had a brand new hole in his body.

The next few moments were a blur for Charlie. Try as he could, he wasn't able to properly recall them. All he knew was that somehow, he was sitting in the backseat of his brother's SUV, behind the driver's seat, as Colby and David placed his brother's head and shoulder on his lap, les legs stretched out in front of him, parallel to Charlie, as they slammed the doors shut, David taking the role of the designated driver, Megan, in the passenger seat, on the phone with the nearest hospital informing them of their imminent arrival and Colby remaining behind to handle the scene of the crime, despite every impulse wanting him to go with his boss.

Considering that Charlie's sense of touch, as well as his ability to see and hear, went on overload as he cradled his brother, it seemed logical that his sense of taste and smell diminished. He regretted his loss of smell for only a small moment. Despite the coppery tang of blood in the air filling his sinuses, he could smell the unique scent he always associated with his big brother. It always seemed to catch him at the weirdest of moments, maybe when he subconsciously wanted his brother by him and Don somehow always turned up, but what mattered was that he could smell it now: a mix of whatever aftershave, perfume or deodorant Don used that Charlie wasn't aware of the name of; he wondered how Don would react if he caught Charlie snooping through his bathroom at his apartment trying to find out; along with the slightest hint of gunpowder, not enough to overwhelm him or make him uncomfortable, but it was simply present. It was what made up Don, and Charlie didn't question it. Despite his unwillingness to have his sense of smell diminish, given a choice, Charlie knew what he would pick.

His sense of hearing was in overdrive, but it was limited to certain sounds. The most prominent of them all was the raspy sound of his brother's breathing, the harshness of it reminding Charlie continuously just how hard his brother was finding the simply, life-giving act of drawing in oxygen. The more time that passed, the quieter his brother's breathing became until the only thing that assured Charlie was the slight rise and fall of his brother's chest under his hand.

His hand…his sense of touch was acute. He wasn't sure who was gaining comfort from whom, whether the weight of his brother in his lap and his hand continuously running through his brother's hair was meant to give comfort to Don or Charlie was deriving it for himself. Either way, he couldn't stop. What Charlie didn't like about this particular sense was the feel of his brother's blood running through his fingers, even as he pressed into the wound fruitlessly, trying to lessen the blood loss. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that in the near future he would be taking a leaf from Lady Macbeth's book and trying to continuously wash the real (and imaginary) blood of his hands. He may not have pulled the trigger but it was for _his_ life that Don risked his own. So much for Larry saying he wasn't a Renaissance Man. He could also feel his brother's slowing heartbeat underneath his fingertips, as well as the lessening rise and fall of his brother's chest to indicate he was still breathing.

But the sense that hurt Charlie the most, and the sense which was functioning at its peak, was his sight. No amount of tears could fully distort the picture of his brother lying in his lap, covered in blood. As soon as Charlie had an opportunity, he was going to his brother's apartment and throwing away every single red item of clothing that Don owned, he never wanted to see that colour on his brother ever again. It's a good thing Don never wanted to dress up as Santa Claus. All this was assuming Don survived, of course. Along with the blood on Don's chest, Charlie could also see a thin line of it making it way down his brother's cheek from his mouth. There was also the added heartache derived from the look in his brother's eyes. Charlie could see the pain and weariness in his brother's eyes, as he fought every second to keep his eyes open, to keep his eyes on his brother, his sight never wavering away, all the way till he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. Don was in bad shape, they both knew it, but Charlie wasn't going to accept it. If he had to talk his brother into staying alive till they reached the hospital, then that is what he would do. God knows, he had enough practice when it came to talking, as his brother loved to remind him. It was his weapon, and he yielded it to help his brother fight the battle against slipping away forever.

It was only when he felt his brother's heart skip a few beats under his hand, when he could barely feel the rise and fall of his chest, when he couldn't tell if his brother was awake or unconscious or… did Charlie's voice waver and he broke his stream of ramblings. Every sense zeroed in to search for his brother's reply to his calls that he didn't even notice the car screech to a halt in front of the hospital's emergency entrance, didn't notice the door to left open or the sight of the people in scrubs appearing, to take his brother away from him, away where he couldn't follow. Throughout all this, his heightened senses still not pick up a response from his brother.

The End (?)

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I'm not asking for your money, I'm asking for your support :) Applause for those who can remember where this tagline is from. And to the non-reviewers, please remember that it's a bit disheartening to see over 100 hits on your story but only a handful of reviews. Do you part. Good or bad, let me know.

To all those who did review, thanks a million. Much appreciated and much valued.


	2. The Waiting Game part 1

**Chapter ****Title: **The Waiting Game (part 1)

**Author: **DreamBrother

**Summary: **Acompanion piece to Sensory Deprivation; Charlie's POV. It can be read as a stand alone.

**Disclaimer: **I'm fine with not owning them. Honestly.

**Author's Note: **Although I updated SD first, I have to make up for the lost time and this is where the lost time is found. When Don wakes up here, I'll start to update SD. That's the plan, in any case. This one was a toughie to write, the whole timeline etc was a pain. I'm pretty sure I wrote a better version in my sleep (I am not kidding, I don't think I slept before my Lit exam, I was dreaming up this chapter. Wish sleeping-me could have typed it out for me, saved me a lot of trouble). But I'll try to do my best, capiche?

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**The Waiting Game**** (part 1)**

A human possesses more than five senses. The five senses that even a grade-school kid knew of were the ''classical'' senses: sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch. But those weren't all. There was Thermoception, the sense of heat and the absence of it; Equilibrioception, which was the perception of balance or acceleration; and then there was Proprioception, which was the perception of body awareness, unconsciously knowing where your body parts are, when you're waving your hand around or closing an eyelid.

Charlie's senses, the classical ones, as well as the lesser-known ones, were all skewed. On the way to the hospital, in the SUV, his sense of taste and smell had diminished as his sense of touch, sight and his hearing went on overdrive. Now, he sat in the surgical waiting room, alone. His proprioception was on the fritz. He didn't realize that he was shaking his right leg up and down, constantly, in a nervous motion that had been with him since he was a kid. It always drove Don crazy, who would try to tolerate it for a little while before finally clamping his hand down on Charlie's knee and holding it steady for a few seconds, until Charlie realized what he was up to and sent a grin of apology Don's way, the action repeated on both their parts until Charlie finally stopped or Don moved to sit elsewhere. Watching TV or reading a newspaper with a jittery brother next to you was not Don's idea of fun. It wasn't always nervousness that made Charlie do it. It was just something he unconsciously did when sitting still for too long, or when his mind was off in the stratosphere, but never when he was working away on his laptop on his lap. Even a dazed Charlie would realize that the laptop was bouncing constantly. As he sat in the waiting room, no-one was there to put a stop to his actions, and his mind went over the events that happened immediately after his unresponsive brother was whisked away from sight. Megan had pulled Charlie out of the SUV and both had followed the doctors inside, before being made to wait in the ER waiting room. David had stayed in the car seeing as how he just couldn't leave the SUV in the front of the emergency entrance as it would be a hindrance to other emergency vehicles, those that came equipped with EMT's and medical paraphernalia. After he had parked the car, David had come in to inform Megan and Charlie that he was going to take a cab to Pasadena and inform and pick up Alan from the house. No way was he going to take the man to the hospital in a car whose backseat was covered in his son's blood.

Charlie wasn't sure how long he had been sitting in the ER waiting room before he felt Megan put a hand on his shoulder and say something about getting out of his clothes. Confused as to why Megan would want him to strip, that too at such a moment in time, he looked at his clothes to see what was wrong with them and noticed for the first time that his previously blue jeans were rapidly turning black due to the darkening blood covering them and his shirt wasn't in a much better condition. The sleeves of his jacket, let alone his hands, were also sporting the same stains. It occurred to Charlie that all the blood that covered him was blood his brother couldn't afford to lose, but he had done it all for Charlie, while Charlie could do nothing for him. Even being asked to donate some blood would have been helpful but all that the nurse who stood behind Megan wanted him to do was to follow her to a bathroom where she gave him a set of scrubs to change into and left him there. Charlie did as he was told, mechanically going through the motions of stripping down and changing into the starchy set of blue scrubs before going to the sink to wash off the blood covering his hands. His sense of temperature, thermoception, seemed to have gone on leave as well as he didn't notice the temperature of water he washed his hands under, concentrating simply on rubbing away every little bit of evidence on his hands, under his fingernails, around his wrists. His enthusiasm backfired on him as the rough scrubbing left his hands pink, even though he got rid of all the blood. _Today isn't a good day. I should have just stayed in bed, saved a lot of people a lot of trouble, prevented Don from…_, Charlie thought, observing his raw hands.

He walked out of the bathroom to find Megan standing outside, by the glass doors, talking on the phone. Mindlessly, Charlie made his way back to the chair he had inhabited a little while ago to wait for news. He could wait. The longer it took, for now, the better. If the doctors came out too quickly that would mean Don was… No, waiting was good. Charlie could wait for as long as necessary. No news was good news, just like his Dad always said, right?

It was while Charlie was thinking that the longer it took the better, a doctor came out of the ER and called out, ''Family of Don Eppes?''. Charlie was getting tired of the ironies. With dread in every single movement, Charlie stood up to answer the doctor, who made her way to him.

''My brother… is he… is he?'' Charlie asked, unable to fully formulate the question.

''Your brother is still alive, for now. I won't lie to you, it's not looking very good but we're going to do the best we can. He's stable for now, we're taking him into surgery to remove the bullet and repair the damage done. We're going to take it one step at a time, so right now he just has to make it through the operation. A nurse will take you to the surgical waiting room. We'll do the best we can, alright?'' the doctor informed. She hated giving such a guarded and somewhat hopeless prognosis, but the fact of the matter was, most people didn't walk away from a point blank bullet wound to the chest. After a nod from her patient's brother, the doctor turned on her heels and set to do whatever she could to make sure her patient saw his brother again.

Charlie heard every word, every syllable with clear precision, benefits of some senses going on overdrive. He didn't know how, but he managed to nod when he realized the doctor was waiting for a response. He was still rooted to the spot and didn't notice Megan come up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. It was only when Megan repeated his name a few times did Charlie notice her close presence and he jumped. His sense of hearing was very finicky, it seemed.

''Charlie? We don't have to wait here. Let's go up to the surgical waiting room. David will bring your dad there, alright? Charlie? You listening to me?''

TBC

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I have a feeling I jumbled up the tenses mid-way. Hope it wasn't too confusing.

Let me know what you think. And if you have any suggestions etc. Time to sleep. My friend will kill me if I sleep through lunch tomm...5 30 am right now..sheesh.


	3. The Waiting Game Part 2

**Chapter ****Title:**** The Waiting Game (part 2)**

**Author:**DreamBrother

**Disclaimer:**Not mine. I didn't know the name Eppes existed before the show.

**Author's Note:**Let's see how this one turns out, shall we? Chris Cornell is out with his new album so my muse should be active but you never know...

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**The Waiting Game (part 2)**

The surgical waiting room was definitely more spacious and a tiny bit more comfortable than the ER waiting room. In the ER, the severity of the injuries and ailments varied, you could wait without having to worry too deeply that the person you were waiting for in a very unkind chair was in mortal danger. But if your loved one was in surgery, then something was up. To Charlie, the level of comfort of the chairs and the room didn't matter at all. He could have been sitting on a bed of nails for all that he cared. He _had _lain on a bed of nails once, with a block on concrete on him. The memory of his brother's horrified expression as he walked into Charlie's office to see Larry holding a sledge-hammer over his baby brother still caused a smirk to grace Charlie's face. And with a small amount of satisfaction, he remembered the reaction of Agent Ian Edgerton, who had accompanied Don. Not much probably rattled the experienced agent, so a glow of pride always filled Charlie as he thought of Edgerton's shocked expression as he saw Larry attempt to "perforate" Charlie.

However, Charlie's mind was not on the events of that day. His concerns were related to the present time. His brother was in surgery and the doctors weren't sure if he would live through it. His father had yet to arrive, and he had nothing to do but wait. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, the lure of P vs NP was calling to him, but he angrily pushed it aside. That problem had caused him to avoid his dying mother when she most needed him, had caused Don to resent Charlie for his actions, had even worried his brother deeply when Charlie had resorted to solving the problem instead of dealing with the dangers of his brother's job during the Charm School Boys case. That problem had caused him nothing but trouble and in an irrational moment, he wished with deep sincerity that no-one ever solved the damn thing.

It occurred to Charlie suddenly that every second that passed, every minute, was one granted to him by his brother's actions. The gunman on the street had not aimed at any of the armed FBI agents who stood near Charlie, but at the unarmed mathematician. Charlie harbored no illusions about his ability to survive a bullet to the chest. It was Don who was the strong one in the family, and the only one who could survive his current predicament. Charlie wouldn't have made it to the hospital, that much he knew. Charlie realized that he should be appreciating his new lease on life, his second chance, but at the moment all he felt was anger; anger that his brother do something so completely… idiotic, but at the same time, heroic. Charlie hadn't asked anyone to save him, hadn't asked his brother to jump in front of a bullet that for once, wasn't meant for him. How was Charlie supposed to feel knowing he had lived at the cost of his brother's life? Deep down, Charlie knew that the anger was just a defense mechanism against other emotions that would have broken him. But by being angry, he could remain in control, he could hold himself together. And right now, he needed to be in control of himself. Charlie Eppes was not going to retreat into his mind this time. To an outsider, the only indication of the war raging in the young genius's mind as he sat in the OR waiting room would have been through his body language; the leg constantly in motion, the arms crossed in front, head semi-bowed with a frown on his face.

Oblivious to his surroundings, Charlie didn't immediately notice his father enter the room, David following close behind. It was only when he was shaken out of his reverie by the feel of his father's hand on his shoulder did he automatically jump up, only to be engulfed in his father's arms.

Pulling away but keeping both hands on the sides of his son's shoulders as though physically holding him together, Alan gave his son an appraising look.

"Charlie. Thank God. Are you alright? David filled me in. What have the doctors said?" asked Alan rapidly, his worry and fear telegraphed in his eyes.

Charlie simply stood there and blinked, waiting for his mind to process the new character in the saga being played out, before his mind jumpstarted and he hurried to answer his father's questions, "Dad, I'm fine. It's… Don we need to worry about. He's been taken into surgery. They'll tell us more when they're done,'' Charlie couldn't bring himself to tell his father just what the ER doctor had said, the carefully worded explanation he had received, the guarded prognosis. His father couldn't turn back time and stop what had happened, so why should he have to worry? Nothing either of them could do would help Don in the operating room, and Charlie was determined not to cause anyone anymore pain as a result of his actions. Don had suffered enough for him in any case.

He felt his father giving him the Evil Eye, as Don had once called it, the appraising look they knew well from childhood when either parent was trying to deduce whether he or Don were lying or hiding something. Right now, his father was probably trying to deduce why Charlie was not falling apart or having a stronger reaction to all that had happened, as well as trying to coax him into elaborating on what the doctor had said. Once in a while, he and Don would foil the Evil Eye. Now was one of those times.

"Ok," said Alan, finally letting go of his son's shoulders and making them both sit down. Megan, who had been filling in David in the meantime, came up to them.

"Alan, Charlie, I have to get back to the office, get started into who that gunman was and why he was after you. Don will rip me a new one if he finds out I took so long getting back to work. David's going to stay here with you, make sure nothing else happens, just in case, alright? There's nothing to worry about. Call me once you know more about Don, ok?" Megan smiled assuredly even though confident was the last thing she felt. But she needed to put up a strong front for the Eppes. They would need strength from wherever they could get it, whatever happened. She wished she could stay, but she had a responsibility to fulfill towards Don, to protect his family when he couldn't and the last thing she was going to do was let him down, especially now.

Both Alan and Charlie nodded their understanding and with that, Megan swept out of the room whilst David took a seat near them, ready to move into action at the slightest threat. Charlie idly wondered why he wasn't more worried about his safety, considering one man had already tried to kill him that day and he might have friends who would be willing to finish the job but pushed the thought out of his mind. He had better things to worry about.

After an eternity later, or so it seemed, the doctor from the ER made her way into the room and walked towards them, all 3 standing upon seeing her enter. Looking back, Charlie was surprised to learn that only 3 hours had passed in the waiting room, he could have sworn they waited a lot longer. Time really was relative. All 3 men stood at rapt attention as they waited for the doctor's next few words.

TBC

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It's best I not get into medical mumbo jumbo at 4 in the morning, as I might regret it later. And it's not like you guys don't technically know what happens next. Hope there aren't too many typos or mistakes, tried my best to catch them all.

No senses in this one, sorry. Reviews make me happy. You want to make me happy, don't you? (I mean that in the non-kinkiest way possible)

Let me know what you think of chapter 3 of an original Oneshot.


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